


beneath the milky twilight

by tsunderestorm



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-05
Updated: 2018-04-05
Packaged: 2019-04-18 22:28:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14223147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tsunderestorm/pseuds/tsunderestorm
Summary: Ardyn takes a souvenir from Niflheim’s diplomatic visit to Insomnia.





	beneath the milky twilight

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a prompt and originally posted [here](https://ffxv-kinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/4398.html?view=9591854&posted=1#cmt9591854).
> 
> Reading this prompt gave me such vivid imagery, I had to write it. Sometimes I have so much fun writing the “non-kinky” prompt fills on the meme...I’m glad people ask for them!

Ardyn can _feel_ The Chosen before he sees him, such a force that the air between them turns hot and electric, the shared powers in their veins calling out to one another. When he sees him, though...that’s another matter. He’s barely a man, set to reach twenty at the turn of summer when the heat hangs humid and thick over the skyscrapers of Insomnia and he is beautiful. Exquisite, even, with his eyes like storm clouds, their steely gray lashes like silver linings...his body, compact and lithe with just a hint of the baby-softness of a pampered prince never meant for the battlefield.

This is the prince he’d been promised, the someday-king who is to be his downfall and in a way, his saving grace. His _undoing_. Ardyn knows of Noctis Lucis Caelum and his destiny: at the end of it all, his pretty profile will be immortalized in statue form atop his tomb in the Lucian mausoleums, posed on a base of gilded gold with a legacy trailing behind him like a cape, or the train of a wedding gown...how appropriate for his marriage to fate, a cruel and controlling partner.

The magic is coursing so strongly through him that he may as well be glowing, blessed by the Astrals and sparkling with it, a perfect bit of moonlit stardust in the night sky that is his namesake. So vivid and pure; a perfect foil for Ardyn’s darkness...just the mere existence of this boy makes him shudder. He’s seated on the dais with his father, poised on twin thrones emblazoned with fifteen swords and arms carved to resemble the Draconian; their benefactor, Ardyn’s tormentor. _That bastard_. The man standing to Noctis’ left beside the man King Regis’ right must surely be his Shield and the man to his right his advisor, bespectacled and stoic as he is. Ardyn would kill (quite literally, he thinks gleefully) for just a moment of time alone with this wayward prince, who can’t even bother to even _look_ attentive as guests file past.

\--

Noctis looks over the balcony at the city blanketed in a covering of late-January snow. From this height it looks soft as down, like he could pull it up over himself and fall asleep instead of worrying about benefit galas and visiting dignitaries.

“A little lamb has strayed too far from the flock…” a voice drawls from behind him, unfamiliar but entirely unexpected, somehow. “And a little lamb should be careful, lest an unfamiliar shepherd leads him astray.”

Noctis turns around to see...fuck, what was his name? The Chancellor of Niflheim. He thinks it might be “A” something-or-other, but he can’t remember if he has a title. “Your Lordship”, or “Sir” or something. When he thinks about it, he’s not even sure what a Chancellor does, though he knows Ignis would. The name hits him when he thinks hard enough: _Ardyn._

“Just needed some air,” Noctis says, hoping it’s polite enough to avoid starting a war with their biggest enemy but dismissive enough that he can make his hidden corner of the balcony private again. “Gets kinda hot in there, you know?”

It doesn’t work. Ardyn saunters over and leans beside Noctis on the railing, looking out over the pinpricks of lights of Lucis beneath them, surrounding the Citadel in twinkling sparkles. It’s beautiful, Noctis thinks as he watches Ardyn watch their capital breathe at night, this dominion he will someday inherit, this sparkling jewel of a city that has slowly killed his father. Beautiful, but a paradox nonetheless: a bastion of safety, a deadly weapon.

“Oh I _know,_ these parties are just so dreadful sometimes, wouldn’t you agree?” Ardyn sighs as he turns and looks him over, balancing a flute of champagne from the gala’s servers on the smooth stone as he wipes his brow. “I must confess I find all this pageantry exhausting...in fact, I’d almost say I hate it!”

Noctis can’t believe his ears. This guy, this over-dramatic, fancy-dressed... _weirdo_ hates parties? That can’t be possible. The guy’s dressed like he’s prepared to attend a costume gala already, in _gods_ only knew how many layers of fabrics that don’t quite match, all sweeping hand gestures and bows dripping with false sincerity.

“Yeah, I guess.” Noctis shivers as an icy, biting breeze blowing in off the sea far in the distance and biting through his sleeves, unprepared for the midwinter chill in his thin dress clothes.

“Are you cold?” Ardyn asks, brows furrowed in concern as he touches Noctis’ elbow where it’s balanced on the parapet. “You should run back indoors, pet.”

Noctis shivers for an entirely different reason. Ardyn’s voice is smooth, like a luxury fabric, something he feels like he could get lost in the feel of. “Yeah..” he says, absently. “Guess I will. Soon.”

Ardyn swoops in close, all black feathers and dark eyes. Like a crow, or a _hawk._ Something that’s made him into prey. His heart leaps into his throat, ramming rapid-fire against his flushing neck...he _likes_ it. Ardyn has a powerful, dangerous air, he’s a high-ranking official from the empire that serves as their biggest enemy. He shouldn’t be alone with this man.

He _wants_ to be alone with this man.

“Unless Lucis’ blessed little lamb _wants_ to follow a new shepherd,” Ardyn offers, as his fingers come to rest beneath Noct’s chin, tilting his face towards him. Noctis’ world narrows in radius. Gone are the sounds of the gala behind them, the fireworks going off above the Citadel...all he can hear is his own blood rushing in his ears and the crunch of Ardyn’s boots in the coating of snow on the balcony as he steps towards him. He doesn’t know if it’s the way that snow makes everything seem muted and small, or if it’s his own imagination offering the kind of solitude and silence that leaves him able to actually _think_ , but all there is for his eyes, his ears, the touch of his fingertips is _Ardyn Izunia_.

“My, my...what a scandal that could be. The prince who was promised, led to a new mountaintop by an errant shepherd,” Ardyn says, his voice low, a whisper meant only for Noctis’ ears even though there’s no way anyone in the Citadel’s grand hall could hear them over the music and chatter. It’s private, _intimate_ , and it shakes Noctis to his core in a way that’s not entirely unpleasant. “Lured off the beaten path by the big, bad wolf...if you will.”

There is snow in Ardyn’s hair, pure white like powder dusting his violet auburn strands. Noctis can feel the snow fall on the back of his neck, a startling chill on his heat-flushed skin. Ardyn’s closeness makes him feel like all the air’s been sucked out of the atmosphere.

“What, are you planning to kidnap me?” Noctis asks, a nervous jibe as his hand moves to the railing of the balcony, imprinting the snow and shocking him, centering him back to reality. His hand is close to Ardyn’s own as it rests there and he could reach out and touch him, find out if he’s real, _take his chances._

Ardyn chuckles, tossing his head back and letting go of Noctis’ chin in favor of clutching his stomach as the laugh deepens. Noctis can see the snowflakes land on his tongue, melting immediately in the warmth and he wonders what it would be like to taste that, to let the Chancellor of this foreign and enemy nation claim his lips in a kiss.

“No, Noct..” Ardyn says, hand moving to his heart in mock offense. “Trust me, it means nothing to me if you don’t want it for yourself.” Noctis lets out a breath he wasn’t entirely sure he was holding, tenseness melting off his body

“But I will-” Ardyn says as he steps closer, broad chest almost against Noctis’ as his fingers settle once more beneath his chin, “-take _something_.”

Noctis knows that he’s going to kiss him. He knows he should shove him away, should use all the training Gladio taught him and _fight_ but he doesn’t _want_ to. When Ardyn’s lips connect, Noctis’ are parted for it, inviting, _welcoming_ even, to the plunge of Ardyn’s tongue between them. The Chancellor of Niflheim kisses him a way that no one would _dare_ to, stepping him backwards until his back meets the railing and he is everywhere: in front of him, around him, enveloping him. Noctis pulls back panting, unaware of the fact that he’d brought his hands up to tangle in Ardyn’s hair, to drag him down to keep the kiss deep and hungry. The strands beneath his fingers are soft and smooth, wild as they curl around his fingers.

“A gesture of goodwill between two nations, if you will.” Ardyn explains with a smirk, lips still inches from Noctis’ and wearing a devilish grin. “I do have a bit of sway with the empire, and I do believe the promise of a pretty prince’s lips may sway me to not loose the daemons on your sparkling Insomnia.”

Stunned by his brazenness, Noctis watches the man turn on his heels and walk away, leaving him with nothing but his heart thudding against his ribcage and his lips tingling with the memory of Ardyn’s. _Well,_ he thinks, if he couldn’t use Gladio’s training and fight the guy who he _knows_ is their enemy, he can at least use that fighting spirit Gladio gave him and _win_.

“Hey,” Noctis says, and Ardyn stops. For a moment there is only the silhouette of him against the lights of the gala just inside the doors and then he is turning to face him again, smile stretched wider than ever as he regards Noctis curiously, head tilted just _so_. Noctis closes the distance in a heartbeat, rising up onto his toes as he presses his lips to Ardyn’s.

“Oh, how full of surprises we are!” the Chancellor says excitedly, clapping his hands together as Noctis settles back down, watching his reaction as his tongue darts out to lick his lip, chasing the taste of Ardyn’s mouth. “Yes, I do think I’ll have quite a bit of fun with you, Chosen King.”


End file.
